re full
of misty shapes that had no relation to fact. The bulk of the hills shut
out the last rays of the sun, though the western sky was still faintly
tinged with crimson. Just as they entered the hut Cumshaw paused for a
moment and ran his eye over the scene. The place seemed peaceful enough,
but he had that queer sense of the bushman, a sense almost amounting to
an instinct, that told him that there was trouble ahead. He shook the
feeling off almost immediately and entered the hut. Bradby, despite his
dislike of the conglomeration of bones on the grass outside, lingered a
second or so longer. There was a light in the eastern sky, perhaps a
faint reflection of the glow of the dying day, that lit up the hump of
the nearest hill. It was practically bare of vegetation; only a solitary
tree stood a lone sentinel on its very summit, showing black against the
horizon.

The thought that sprung into Bradby's mind at that was that here was a
landmark which there could be no possibility of mistaking. Already
certain plans were germinating in his brain, and he saw, or fancied he
saw, a way of turning this latest discovery to practical use. The
bleached bones in front of him, too, became a means to an end, and, with
the smile of a man who sees the way suddenly made clear, he too entered
the hut in his turn.

Cumshaw was busily engaged in laying a fire in the centre of the hut,
taking care, however, that its glow would not show through the open
doorway. He looked up as Bradby entered and said, "I think we're safe in
starting a fire here. It can't be seen by anyone crossing the hills,
though there isn't much likelihood of that, and all the smoke we make
won't do us any harm. There's always a certain amount of mist in a place
like this, and a man a mile away wouldn't be able to tell the
difference."

"Go ahead," said Mr. Bradby quietly. "You know what you are doing."

The compliment in the last remark was desperately like an insult, but
Cumshaw did not seem to notice anything out of the way, for he bent down
to his work and whistled cheerfully while he coaxed the fire into a
blaze. Presently it was burning brightly, the billy was filled with
water from the water-bottle, and tea was in a fair way of being
prepared. "Great place, this," Cumshaw said presently.

"Great place," Mr. Bradby assented. "A man can die here without anyone
being any the wiser."

Mr. Cumshaw made no reply to that, but the corners of his mouth
tightened